


Counting Scars

by Ryu_No_Joou



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It sounds dark but it has a happy ending!!!!, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Red Dead Redemption 1 Spoilers, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Spoilers for both games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_No_Joou/pseuds/Ryu_No_Joou
Summary: Morston week, day 4 : Scars. In the outlaw life, scars come with the territory.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Morston Week 2020





	Counting Scars

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic, but I'm submitting it for Morston week!

One. 

A nick across the bridge of Arthur’s nose, gotten in some long-ago barfight.

Two, three. Angling slightly downward on his chin, parallel to each other. Had that been from a horse kick? Arthur didn’t remember anymore and he’d had it as long as John had known him. A kiss pressed to the spot.

Four, five, six. Marring John’s right cheek and his nose, a reminder of the wolves. Traced by a loving finger.

Seven. A permanent reminder of goddamn Colm O’Driscoll, vaguely star-shaped, on Arthur’s left shoulder where he’d been forced to dig out a bullet and cauterize the wound. Traced then ignored for the pain it still brought.

Eight. Right down the corner of John’s mouth. Kissed by warm lips.

Nine. A graze on Arthur’s hip from a Pinkerton bullet. Covered by John’s hand every time he drew Arthur down on top of him at night.

Ten. Cutting through John’s eyebrow, splitting it. 

Eleven. Eleven? In remembrance of Lyle Morgan, a hard-handed son of a bitch. His belt buckle had torn a furrow in his son’s back during some beating. Lyle had done a lot of beating.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen - so many? Scrawled into John’s right arm by the wolves.

Fifteen and sixteen on his thigh, so close together they could probably count as one, the Reverend had had a hell of a time stitching them up. A recent love bite just above them.

Seventeen. From the biggest bastard of them all, from Micah Bell, a deeper graze along Arthur’s upper arm. Screaming in rage, trying to keep a grip on a struggling Sadie and infuriated by the reappearance of the two men he hated most, Micah’s aim had been off. John’s and Arthur’s aim hadn’t been. Good riddance.

How many others? Some older, some newer, most with bad memories but a few gained even in their new, domestic life. John had nicked himself peeling potatoes, Arthur had stumbled into a loose nail while building the house. And many, many invisible scars on their hearts and souls. Betrayals and losses and arguments that would never stop hurting no matter how much time passed. 

The freshest and possibly deepest one in the furthest reaches of their souls, the last scar Dutch had left on them as he plummeted over the cliff. Their father, turned betrayer, turned enemy, gone.

Arthur kissed John softly, again, his lover’s hands buried in his hair. His fingers traced the scars on John’s face, as John leaned up to kiss the ones on Arthur’s chin again.

“I love you, John.”

“And I love you, Arthur.”

**Author's Note:**

> hhnnghhhghh ok this little drabble popped into my head at work so I wrote it
> 
> basically Arthur never got TB and he moved away with the Marstons then came back to build Beecher's Hope and kill Micah then spend the rest of his life as a gay rancher with his boyfriend and his boyfriend's son and his boyfriend's son's mother and her girlfriend
> 
> oh and he and John encountered Dutch like in RDR1 but I haven't played that yet so


End file.
